I think I’ve mentioned back to school is looming for us. There has been some light shopping, haircuts and doctor appointments.
Appointments which involved questionnaires.
Questionnaires which involved preparation for puberty
Puberty which involves…
Well, you know the rest.
My hades. Are we here already? It’s caught me off-guard, but she’s turning 9 in a matter of days. It was at this point that the oldest turned into a surly, attitude-ridden mess of hormones. I turned into a hard-ass. I don’t like being a hard-ass. It’s a lot of work and being mean takes commitment. I don’t want to go back there just yet.
Besides, even though I’ve done it before, the idea of talking to Selby about menarche makes me queasy. She seems so young. I’m not sure if this is because I’m older now, with more of a gap between my daughter and myself. It may be because, old soul that she is, there is an essential innocence in Selby that resists the typical tweendom.
Or I’ve got my head up my ass.
She loves One Direction. She asked for a shopping trip to Justice for her birthday. She was in raptures over a vanilla scented bath set. (No pole, no pole, no pole.) There’s a smidgen of attitude showing.
The doctor says I’ve got time. No physical signs of…you know. But it’s coming. So maybe, just maybe, I ought to start planning my lesson on BECOMING A WOMAN.
Oh my hades. Someone please pour me a drink and hold me.